


Bend, But Don't Break- Burn, But Stay Bright

by exquisitedeadguy



Category: Beetlejuice - All Media Types, Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King
Genre: Adam is just worried about his wife, Barbara is stronger than she looks and she looks like a badass, Beetlejuice can only process empathy as anger, Childhood Trauma, Delia is a great friend, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Recovery, everything turns out okay!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-13 02:30:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21486847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exquisitedeadguy/pseuds/exquisitedeadguy
Summary: "She’s proud of who she is. She is proud of herself for growing a heart of gold (bright, kind, and strong), for finding happiness through things and hobbies and people, for knowing who she’s become and being happy with who she is, despite what’s happened to her. She’s come so far-But some things won’t ever leave."Memories don't die with your body, Delia makes a friend, and Beetlejuice learns something about how strong his girlfriend really is.
Relationships: Adam Maitland/Barbara Maitland, Beetlejuice/Adam Maitland/Barbara Maitland, Beetlejuice/Barbara Maitland, Delia Deetz & Barbara Maitland
Comments: 7
Kudos: 160





	Bend, But Don't Break- Burn, But Stay Bright

**Author's Note:**

> Hey folks- 
> 
> This is entirely self-indulgent, kinda a vent-fic, and pretty vague as to what Barbara went through, but I might get further in-depth with it in future fics. It's implied heavily, but I didn't say it explicitly just in case- but be warned; child abuse, specifically CSA, is hinted at here. 
> 
> I'm going to start writing a Goldenrats Series I think, just because I absolutely ADORE this ship. It won't always be this serious, but... I'm a sucker for angst and hurt/comfort, so!

Barbara knew she might have to face this someday- it wasn’t anything at the forefront of her mind, but instead, something that itched at the back of her subconscious, an ever-burning flame, a memory that would have to be shared. Adam knew enough that she never had to speak of it again (he’d been her friend since they were 9, together at 16, together for life and everything afterwards- it would be hard for him NOT to know); not that she ever explained it herself, really. But with Beetlejuice involved now, the flame sparks bigger, until it’s all she can think of, until the heat is just too much to bear. 

Adam’s parents are the only ones she considers her own, truly. His father walked her down the aisle, because Barbara would rather die than have Donald lay a hand on her again. Again, mostly unspoken- But understood. 

Barbara is not a victim- Not anymore, at least, and she refuses to think of herself as such. She understands why others do, completely (to work through the guilt, reminding yourself that you’re a victim can help you feel clean again), but she doesn’t like the label. She wants to move past it into a life she carves for herself- or, more accurately, an afterlife, an infinity. And she’s been successful! With Adam with her, a man to trust in, to be cared for by, to be loved by and love in return, it was possible to be strong and capable and smart and loveable and warm- Things she has always wanted to be, and was afraid she wouldn’t be able to become. 

She’s proud of who she is. She is proud of herself for growing a heart of gold (bright, kind, and strong), for finding happiness through things and hobbies and people, for knowing who she’s become and being happy with who she is, despite what’s happened to her. She’s come so far- 

But some things won’t ever leave. 

It’s alright; she’s accepted this. And the shame of not being entirely recovered, or entirely past her problems, has been entirely erased long before her death. But it still hurts when it comes; anniversaries, or memories of Donald, or men who look or sound a little too familiar. Adam knows what her panic looks like, and he knows what to do (takes her hand, rubs circles along the back of it, breathes deep and loud so she can follow suit). Being dead and confined to the house, it doesn’t happen all too much- But Charles has quite a few business associates, and quite a few of them look a lot like Donald. 

Donald is back in Idaho, where she left him. She knows this- and she knows he doesn’t work in the same field as Charles does, so none of these men are actually him. And she knows she’s dead! She’s dead, and untouchable, and most often invisible; but the heart and the mind take control sometimes, throwing logic out the window. Adam catches it before she does, this time, and tries to distract her; but it doesn’t work, bless him for trying. It takes the edge off, but her fingers still go numb. 

Beetlejuice looks… Confused. Eyes slide quickly from her, to him, back to her again- As if trying to decipher what the actual emotion being shared between them is. He’s not so good with his own, and even rustier with others’; but it’s a powerful, palpable feeling that he can’t ignore, and he wants in (no matter if it’s good or not). He puts a hand on her shoulder, and she jumps- he moves to pull away, but she quickly melts a touch under his touch, and lifts a hand to tap his (a note, to tell him to stay), so he keeps it there. Adam’s perpetually nervous expression turns its attention to you, and nods in approval and quiet thanks- Beetlejuice just nods back with a baffled frown, but no words. It seems to be a quiet moment, here.

Once Barbara has finished staring down a particular new house guest, she closes her eyes, and takes a deep breath- more of a sigh, really. It’s strong enough that it echoes into the world of the living; gusting through the curtains of the kitchen (“Good lord, Charles, what was that?” “Oh, uh- Very drafty, this time of year-“). Adam tugs at her hand, and she begins to follow- Before placing a hand on Beetlejuice’s, over her shoulder, and holding it there. Seems I’m suppose’ta follow, he thinks to himself, letting her hold him in place. 

She directs them, wordlessly, pointing at places on the bed- She lays in the middle, Adam behind her, Beetlejuice in front. Adam curls around her, just as silent as she’s been this entire time; and Beetlejuice assumes this is a ritual, or something that’s happened enough times before for them to not need explanation anymore. But he’s fuckin’ confused- Absolutely lost, absolutely obedient, but absolutely baffled by the whole situation. But it seems delicate; enough that he’s not going to break the very tense silence, and so he lies down in front of her as he’s demanded too.

She instantly wraps her arms around him, and buries her face into his chest. And honestly, again- He’s taken aback. Sure, they’ve cuddled before, but she’s never been so… Aggressive about it. He looks to Adam again, stroking her hair, eyes flicking up to meet Beetlejuice’s, and suddenly, Beej is afraid. Not for himself, but for whatever is happening here. 

Barbara sleeps through a lot of the afternoon- Adam falls asleep next, and Beetlejuice eventually follows suit (just through the fact that being made to stay still for long was so awfully boring that he couldn’t stay conscious). It’s quiet, and unsettling, and the one person who notices the oddness of the trio isn’t Lydia. And it’s DEFINITELY not Charles, either. 

When things go back to moderate normal (Adam and Barbara continuing on like usual, but Beetlejuice absolutely overwhelmed with confusion), Delia Deetz starts to think. 

It doesn’t take long before Delia and Barbara have time alone- Strategically plotted by the breather, but Barbara isn’t stupid, and went along with Delia’s not-so-subtle scheming. She knows Delia wants to talk; she doesn’t know what about, but she also knows the both of them are very, very lonely, and having a chat would not be something she’d be turning down, for any reason. Delia sits them down at the dining room table, and levels a serious look at Barbara-

“What’s going on, girl? I know the look of a strong woman who needs a minute to not be so strong. You can talk to me about it.” 

Barbara wasn’t expecting to tell Delia any of this- But it’s easy to. She starts vague, nothing more than “my father wasn’t a great father”, and “I cut contact with him, but sometimes, when I see people who look like him, I panic”; but Delia is easy to talk to. For all her over-excitable and hyper-eager need to talk about these issues in a way that could feel overbearing, she’s an excellent listener (plus, settling down with Charles helped her find herself through all of the fear and insecurity from her prior husband). 

Barbara talks. And talks, and talks- Until Delia looks like she’s been punched in the gut; this violent expression of pity and sympathy, and Barbara notices she’s likely spoken too much. She Apologizes, quickly-

“No, no- Don’t you dare,” she’s interrupted quickly by the living woman. “Don’t apologize for speaking your truth. And don’t apologize for being hurt by it, either- That was a horrible thing to live through, and- Barbara? You are a wonderful, wonderful woman. A strong, capable, outstanding lady for being unapologetically you, no matter what. He doesn’t hold anything over you, and you know that, don’t you?” 

“Y-Yes, yes I do,” Barbara answers (if a bit nervous to do so), and her hands are quickly taken by Delia’s. 

“I am so touched that you have trusted me enough to tell me this- And mark my words, I’m going to do everything I can to be there for whatever you need. Does-” And her voice hushes, quickly, as she looks around them for signs of a fellow ghost with the most. “-does Lawrence know about all this?” Delia’s intuition was right, picking up on the confusion in his obedience, and Barbara shakes her head. 

“I haven’t even, well… Explained everything to Adam, really. He was there while I was going through it, so I wasn’t able to ever speak about it. Beetlejuice, though…” Another sigh, and she shakes her head again. “I know he’s not going to think any differently of me. It’s just-“

“Hard to say it out loud, sometimes. I understand,” Delia interrupts, and nervously places a hand to her lips- Barbara shakes her head, though, and a quick giggle breaks the tension between the two. “Well, if it would help…” Delia begins, trailing off, and Barbara thinks a moment on her implication. 

The thought of explaining all of this again, to someone who likely wouldn’t take it as calmly as Delia did, exhausts and terrifies Barbara. And she knows he needs to know- He needs to know, he deserves to know why she (very rarely) disintegrates into a shell of herself. Delia is offering to do the hard part for her- Part of her thinks it’s as much to help herself as it is to help her. It’s something helpful, something productive, something good she can do to help better the life of someone near her- And isn’t that what Delia is just desperate to do? 

And it would take a load off her shoulders, too- Barbara wouldn’t have to find the words and swallow the discomfort and fear triggered by all of it coming back, again. She wouldn’t have to be the one to explain herself, she wouldn’t have to look in his eyes and be afraid of finding disgust or amusement. It seemed… Like a pretty good deal to her, really- And so, after a moment of silence, she says as much. 

“I think it would help, Delia.” 

It’s later that evening that conversation within the group of relevant parties (Delia offered to make dinner for the trio, now that they’ve learned ghosts can actually eat if they put their minds to it, before Barbara said she needed to check on her paintings upstairs for a minute- A sign that Delia should prepare to execute their plan) turns down a road that allows for a smooth integration of Barbara’s story. 

“Yeah, she’s been, like- SUUUPER cuddly lately- not that I mind!” Beetlejuice rambles, mostly focusing his attention on Delia; while Adam pokes, fascinated, at the plate of food in front of him. “But it seems less like oh, I love you sooooo much, Beetlejuice, and more like… I dunno… She’s scared or somethin’.” 

“Well, I talked to her about it- Earlier today, actually! And she told me it’s totally good and clear for me to talk about it, too, so like, don’t worry about that-“ Her eyes find Adam, whose attention has turned from the plate to her speech. It’s silent, their discussion- Yes, it’s about THAT. Yes, I am helping her. Thank you for helping her with this. Beetlejuice narrows his eyes at Delia, confused, and a little hurt, almost about to speak (why’d she come to you instead of me? Doesn’t she trust me?) , but Delia interrupts. 

She tells Beetlejuice… Everything. Adam’s hand lays on his shoulder, just like Beetlejuice’s laid on hers, earlier. Delia explains, as calmly and softly as possible, but it does nothing to quell the absolute, all-encompassing, resolute rage that boils up inside him. Her speech slows for a minute while his hair melts in colour; from his standard pale green, into a vibrant, brilliant, ruby-red. Adam’s hand goes to ruffle the strands, and he nods at Delia to continue- Again, silently communicating; righteous anger, empathy. It’s okay. 

Beetlejuice’s fists ball up as the speech finishes out; Adam is right there, absorbing a few details he hadn’t had confirmed, but definitely suspected, and Delia is trying to look as light-hearted as possible. 

“-She asked me to fill you in because… Well, it can be hard, you know, to tell this sort of stuff to someone you love, and trust, ‘cause you’re afraid of how they’ll react. Or, it’s hard to re-remember it, and it can hurt. Just- don’t treat her any differently, alright? She’s still the same badass Barbara she’s always been-“ 

“Except maybe a little bit more, um, ‘badass’ now,” Adam adds, rubbing Beetlejuice’s shoulders, trying to melt the tension in his form. It doesn’t work- He stares ahead, eyes spiralling into a mental mirage of torture and destruction; all manners of creative pain he could inflict on the man who’d re-defined the concept of evil for him. 

Beetlejuice has seen worse. Shit, some people may say he’s DONE worse- Nothing along those lines, though. Knitting a sweater out of someone’s small intestine could be considered more heinous than- what her father had done (he can’t even think the words), but this? This was personal. This was empathy; something he was just learning about. This was Barbara Maitland- A woman with a heart of gold and a backbone unmatched, and it makes too much sense, now. But the thought of anything bad happening to her makes him sick- And the confirmation that the worst thing possible had already happened to her? Makes him even sicker. 

Words fuzz in his ears as he levitates, and floats through the ceiling- Like a comet, burning up, into the attic, where Barbara has been hiding for the entirety of the conversation. He is a vivid red- and Barbara is scared, for a moment. He realizes this; quickly, the tips of his hair spread violent, and a gentle hand unravels from his fist, stretching towards her. 

“What was his name?” 

“Donald. Donald Curtis.” 

She knows- Telling him the name means she’s signing his death warrant. The state he’s in, the way he’s seething and vibrating, ready to explode… It’s only going to be directed in one direction. Barbara can only hope he’ll choose to stay with her, now, instead of chasing vengeance she doesn’t need (not nearly as much as she needs his comfort). She takes his hand, easily, now that she’s convinced his anger is not directed at her-

He pulls her into his chest, quickly- perhaps squeezing too tightly, but she doesn’t mind. She doesn’t need to breathe, anymore; and she needs the solidity of her demon. He holds her for what feels like hours, shaking, slowly trying to calm himself down (failing, mostly); and eventually pulls away from her, to look in her eyes.

“Why’re you bein’ the tough one, Babs?” He sniffs, head tilted, awfully confused- He’d half-expected her to break down in his arms, assuming he’d have to turn his anger into strength to keep her steady, but she looks… Fine. A little melancholy, but still put-together, and sturdy. 

“Because I’m used to it. I’ve dealt with this all my life, Beej, I don’t need to cry over it. I’m just… Happy you know, now. And that you don’t think any differently of me.” 

“I could never, babes- I’m not a complete monster,” He snaps- Not in anger, but in a quick desire to confirm her thoughts. He’s got a heart, however impossible that may seem; he’s done terrible things, he’s been terrible things, but he’s trying to get better. He’s feeling better, he’s just feeling, and he’s trying to be better- It’s hard work. It really, truly is; but feeling this anger towards people who’ve hurt the ones he loves? He thinks it might be a good stepping stone to being good in general. 

“I know you aren’t. You’re not a monster at all,” She smiles, and brushes loose shreds of red out of his face- Her touch turns them lavender and pink, and she smiles even more. 

“All cause’a you, doll, and your boytoy downstairs.” He jokes, melting into a calmer state of mind, and sighs. 

“Well, I’ll take the credit if you’re offering it-“


End file.
